My hands trembled as I held the memory charm. Father had told me about it once. He’d made the charm so he could cross worlds and buy Mom a proper wedding ring, but he’d never given it to her. He’d saved it and given it to me, instead, to be used as a magical talisman. I’d learned a new magic word from it, but since then, the ring had collected dust on my bookshelf.
But what was the memory charm doing here? It must’ve been here for years, concealed by magic. Did Father intend for Mom to have it?
I looked from the charm to my father’s journal. Scanning the pages, I realized the journal recounted my mom and dad’s courtship. I stopped and read a passage.
We have camped on the west side of the mountain to avoid the brunt of the blizzard. The elves, used to Faythander’s winter season, suffer from no ill effects. However, Kasandra’s weakened state has grown worse. I fear she will not last longer under these conditions. I have relinquished my own food rations to keep her strong. I cannot tell if she appreciates my offering. Is it only my imagination that she does?
The winds died down just as midnight approached, leaving us to the merciless howls of the grimwelts. Their pack draws closer, and we will have no choice but to confront them soon.
Kasandra admitted that she was not used to such bloodthirsty cries as she tried to sleep. I reminded her of my snoring.
I closed the journal. Reading of their courtship was more painful than I’d expected. The words didn’t sound like my father’s. He’d never had a sense of humor, had he? I’d always supposed my parents must have been under some sort of evil goblin’s enchantment to fall for each other. But it seemed I’d been wrong.
Under no circumstances could I let Mom see this. It seemed a heartless thing to do, but I tucked the book and the charm in my back pocket. Mom couldn’t afford to remember her past. From the living room, I heard Mom’s musical laughter, and I made my way back to the couches and sat down again by Brent.
“What did you think of my knickknacks?” Mom asked with a laugh.
“They’re nice, I guess. I’m just surprised at your sudden interest in collecting.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s only a hobby. You know how lonely I get.”
“I know. But you’ve always gone to the gym or the mall or baked something. I’m not sure why you changed. And when you said you collected a few, I didn’t realize you meant close to a hundred.”
She stiffened. “I’m sure I’m not like one of your patients, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No. Of course not.” I was lying. I prayed I was wrong. More than anything, I wanted to believe that Mom’s new obsession was only a hobby.
Please let it be a hobby.
Brent sat forward. “If it’s all right, I need to go soon. I’ve got classes tonight.”
“Sure,” I said a little too quickly and stood before anyone else.
We said our good-byes without any more mention of Mom’s collection, although that’s all I thought about. As I climbed into Brent’s car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mom’s new obsession must’ve been a result of the failing magic. That made me wonder other things. What else had the magic affected?
Brent started the car as afternoon sunlight cast shadows over the mountainous homes as we made our way out of Mom’s neighborhood.
I pulled out my phone and replayed the messages Doc Hill had sent me. If I didn’t find the magical bloom soon, my mom’s condition would worsen. My quest to find the Everblossom had taken on a whole new meaning.
“Mind dropping me off at St. Luke’s?” I asked Brent.
He raised an eyebrow. “The homeless shelter? This is about a client, I hope.”
“Of course not. I’ve got a new home. Didn’t you know?”
He cast me a sidelong glance. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
I sighed, thinking of my near-empty checking account. “It’s closer to the truth than you think,” I mumbled.
“Olive, do you need money? I can give you some if—”
“No, please don’t.” I hadn’t broken up with him yet. I’d fully intended to and hadn’t.
Mom’s new hobby had distracted me from asking for financial aid, and now Brent was offering me money. I needed it, too. Darn it all. But under no circumstances could I accept his help. I’d drawn our relationship out for long enough.
“If you need it, then let me help you. That’s what boyfriends are for, right?”
Boyfriend. He had to use that word. I decided I couldn’t let this last any longer. I’d given my heart to Kull, and no matter how uncomfortable it made me, I couldn’t let this go on any longer.
I worked up my courage as we merged onto I-45. “Brent, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Okay.” He kept his eyes focused on the road.
“I can’t be your girlfriend anymore.” There. I said it.
“What?” He laughed. “You’re not serious.”
“Yeah. I am. I know this is horrible timing. I’m really sorry, but I just can’t—”
“Is this about my new career?”
“No, it has nothing to do with that.”
“Then what?”
“I—I just… I need some time alone.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he demanded. “After two years, you need some time alone?”
“Brent, you know we’re not right for each other. We act more like roommates than a couple. We aren’t that close. You’ve got your life, and I’ve got mine. I really don’t see our relationship going anywhere.” I couldn’t make my heart stop pounding. I should’ve waited until I was out of his car, but now he held me hostage, demanding an explanation.
“Yes, I agree,” he said. “That’s why I’m starting a new career. I didn’t mention it before, but I did it because I wanted to spend more time with you. I’m ready for us to take the next step and ready for a real life with a family. You can’t break it off. Not now. Just give me a chance.”
A family? Why did he have to sound so sincere? Why couldn’t he scream and yell and act like a huge jerk so I wouldn’t feel so guilty? “Brent,” I said softly. “I can’t.”
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “That’s what you really want?”
I wanted to answer yes without hesitation, but my reasons for breaking it off seemed a thin excuse. I thought of Kull. Could he give me the life I wanted? Or would I be stuck in his huge castle as he went off to war or hunting or whatever it was that big, brutish men like him did in their spare time? Sure, he could provide for me. He was the Wult prince, and someday he would be king. But his title meant nothing if I would never see him. If I chose him, would I still be doomed to live a life of isolation? And I still couldn’t be sure he wanted me in that way. How did I know I wasn’t just a diversion for him? What if I got back to Faythander and he’d found someone else?
But that was only part of the problem. What would happen to my life on Earth if I chose Kull? He couldn’t come with me. Anytime I wanted to return home, I’d have to leave him behind. And if we ever had kids, what would happen to them? Would they remember both worlds, like me? Or would I have to leave them behind, too?
Kids? Great. I was way overthinking this.
I hugged my arms around my stomach, feeling nausea heave through my insides as we crossed the causeway from the mainland to Galveston Island. Storm clouds gathered over the churning waters of the bay far below. The silhouettes of huge tanker ships loomed in the distance, blocks of black against the gray.
“Why don’t you think about it first?” Brent said. “You don’t have to make your decision yet.”
I remained silent as we exited the causeway and drove onto the island. Oak trees lined Broadway Boulevard, their barren branches swaying in the stiff sea breeze.
St. Luke’s sat off the road and was isolated from the other buildings. It was a squat, beige-colored building with chipped paint and graffiti on one side. We drove over the cracked-asphalt parking lot and stopped at the front door, where a few homeless men gathered around the entry. Their rough, lean faces and soiled, tattered clothes spoke of the harsh lives they led, lives far worse than my own. It made me wonder why I’d been so wound up in the first place.
Even with everything that seemed wrong in my life, I knew I still had so much to be thankful for. I had a home. I had friends and family. I had fallen in love with a man who really cared for me. I couldn’t throw that away. Deep inside, I knew what I wanted. Despite fears of my future with Kull, I would regret not breaking it off now with Brent when I had the chance.
“Brent.” I said his name softly. “I’ve made my decision.”
“And?”
“My answer is no.”
His eyes widened. “I can’t believe you’re doing this now. After everything I’ve sacrificed.”
I couldn’t help but realize that he was trying to guilt-trip me. Yes. I’d made the right decision. “You’ll find who you’re looking for, but it isn’t me.”
He nodded. “You should probably go,” he said without looking at me.
“Sure.” I left his car without another word. Maybe I should’ve felt awful. Instead, I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted. A few eyebrows rose as I walked past the homeless men with a giddy grin on my face. I’d done it. I’d chosen Kull. Now I just needed to fix this magic problem so I could get back to him.
Entering the shelter, I found the front desk. A dusty-smelling Christmas garland lay atop the counter, and a nurse wearing reindeer scrubs stood behind it.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m looking for a John Doe.”
I gave her the description, and she pointed me toward room fourteen. I thanked her and headed for the door, when she stopped me.
“Just want you to be careful, sweetheart. We’ve had some trouble with him.”
“I will. Thanks.”
I found room fourteen and knocked on the door. A muffled “Come in” came from the room, and I opened the door.
A dark-skinned man sat on a rocking chair near a window. Through the glass, low-lying clouds crowded out the sunlight, only allowing a faint gray glow to illuminate the room. The room’s only other furniture was a mattress sitting atop a rusted-metal bed frame and a saggy, particleboard desk in the corner. I crossed the linoleum-tiled floor to stand by the man.
He raised his head to look at me, and that’s when I noticed his eyes.
Catlike green irises stared up at me. Odd, but not the yellow eyes of Mochazon. Honestly, they looked more like cheap contact lenses. Not what I’d been hoping for.
Mr. Doe sported a newsboy-style cap, a white button-up shirt, and polyester brown pants. His thin frame bordered on anorexic. He gave me a slight smile.
“Are you Miss Kennedy?” he asked.
“I am. May I have a seat?”
He pointed to the mattress. “Go ahead.”
I sat on the foot of the bed. “Dr. Hill told you I was coming?” I asked.
He nodded. “He said you help people like me.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you qualify as one of my patients.”
He laced his thin, bony fingers together. “And how would I qualify?”
“Well, Mr. Doe—”
“It’s Chester,” he said. “Chester Buxton.”
“Mr. Buxton,” I corrected. “This is usually the time I would ask if you have any collections, especially of the dragon, pixie, or elf types.”
He let out a quiet chuckle. “Does it look like I have any belongings?”
I inspected the near-empty room. A tatty army-green backpack sat in the corner, and a pair of scuffed Reeboks lay beside the bag. I also spotted a used needle in the trash can. Hopefully, he was diabetic.
I turned back to him. “Good point. Let’s start over. Do you suffer with any mental disorders? Depression, bipolar disorder, narcissism—”
“Miss Kennedy.” He leaned forward. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. You’ll forgive me if I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
My shoulders slumped. This wasn’t going to be easy. “All right—do you ever feel very, very sad? So sad you wish you were dead?”
He tipped his cap. “I don’t have to feel sad. I’ve got my medicine.”
“Medicine?”
“Yes, ma’am. Shorty’s guys gave it to me. For free.” He laughed. “And they keep giving me my medicine. So you see, I feel okay. Long as I have my medicine.”
“May I see your medicine?”
He drew back. “No one can see my medicine. Only me.”
“Why?”
“Because it looks invisible to everyone else.”
I pressed my eyes closed. I’d dealt with visitors to Faythander, but this bordered on a whole different level. Maybe even the he-needed-to-be-admitted-to-St.-Joe’s-psych-ward kind of level. “It’s invisible?”
He nodded vigorously. “Now you’re getting it!”
“Why is it invisible? Is it magic?”
“I don’t know. It may be.”
If this guy was Mochazon in disguise, then he was doing a darned good job of hiding it. But how could I find out his real identity? And what was this drug he was talking about? I glanced again at the trash can. An idea hit me.
“You said that Shorty’s men gave you the medicine. Can you tell me who Shorty is?”
“Never seen him. Only his posse.”
“What does his posse look like?”
He knitted his brows. “You sure ask a lot of questions. I’m tired out from answering all those questions. You know, I might be ready for my nap.”
“Chester,” I said. “Please. Can you tell me what Shorty’s men looked like?”
He yawned. “They’re hard to see. Only come around at night when it’s real dark. Down by the harbor. Pier thirteen. Lucky number, if you ask me. Years ago, I would’a liked to be one of those guys. Cloaks and hoods and all, real cool. But now I’m just a tired old man.”
Cloaks and hoods?
Chester closed his eyes. His breathing grew heavy. “That medicine makes me real tired sometimes. I’ll have to take my nap now, Miss Kennedy,” he said.
“Of course.” I patted his hand, noticing the trail marks up and down his arms. “Good-bye, Mr. Chester,” I said softly. I made a stop by the trash can before heading out. If I wanted to know more about Mr. Buxton, I needed to find out what was in his supposed medicine. I found a Kleenex box on the desk and used a tissue to reach for the needle when I paused.
A faint, grayish trace of goblin magic clung to the needle.
I drew back. “Mr. Buxton,” I said, “I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but did Shorty’s men give you this needle?”
“Miss Kennedy, now that’s none of your business, is it?”
I could only assume they had, so I grabbed the needle with the tissue. My intentions were to spellcast it later to determine who had created the enchantment, but when I straightened, a rough hand gripped my wrist. I turned and found myself looking into the angry eyes of Chester. Hadn’t he been sitting in the chair?
“What are you doing with my stuff?” he asked.
“Sorry, but this was in the trash and I thought you didn’t need it. Will you release my arm, please?” I spoke calmly, though standing there with his hand clenched around my wrist frightened me.
“You leave my stuff alone and maybe I will.”
I had no other choice but to drop the needle back in the trash, although he didn’t release my arm. “You can let go now,” I said.
His eyes burned with hate, reminding me of Geth. “What are you doing here? You trying to steal my medicine, aren’t you?”
“No—”
“It’s my stuff, fair and square. I went down to those docks, working the street corner like I usually did, when I saw that light in the water real weird. And that’s when Shorty’s guys showed up—said I reminded them of someone. Maybe they thought I was someone else, I don’t know, but even so, they gave me that medicine. It’s mine. Not yours, not anybody else’s!”
I swallowed down my fear as his grip grew tighter. “Mr. Buxton—”
“They told me to take good care of it, and I intend to do just what they say. Guys like that—you gotta go with what they say, you know? Because I don’t wanna get hurt.”
“Did they threaten to hurt you?”
“Yeah! What do you think?” he shouted.
When he finally released my arm, I backed away, keeping my voice level. “I’ll be on my way,” I said. “Sorry to bother you.”
The nurse wearing the reindeer scrubs appeared at the door and ushered me out.
Thank you, I mouthed to her.
She nodded, gave Mr. Buxton a few firm commands, and then pulled the door closed. The nurse ushered me back to the front desk. “Sorry,” she said. “He seemed like such a sweet old man when he got here, but he’s got a temper for sure. Did he hurt you?”
I rubbed my still-throbbing wrist. “Not too bad.”
She sighed. “Drugs do that to people. I hope you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, just a little rattled.” I took a deep breath to regain my composure. I needed answers. “He claims to go by Chester Buxton. Do you have any information on him at all?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. He’s given us a name and address, although they’re both bogus.”
“So neither the name nor the address exist?”
She nodded. “It’s like he came out of thin air or something. It’s odd.”
I tapped the desk. I could only assume he’d gotten his drugs from Geth—and that the drugs were some form of goblin potion. Did they work to erase the man’s identity? And if so, why had they given him the potion in the first place? Had they—like me—mistaken Mr. Buxton for Mochazon? I needed more answers, but I wasn’t sure where to go next.
“Thank you,” I told the nurse before leaving.
“Of course.”
I stepped outside as the wind picked up. Only one of the homeless men remained huddled at the front entryway. Scanning the parking lot, I instinctually reached for my phone to dial Brent and beg for a ride home but stopped myself.
No, I couldn’t use him anymore. Is that what I’d been doing this whole time? Using him? Well, that needed to stop.
“You waiting for the bus?” the homeless man asked.
“Does it stop here?”
“Yes, it stops on the corner.” He pointed down the street.
“Oh. Thanks,” I said.
“No problem. Should be here any minute now.”
I headed for the bus stop. Cracked asphalt, some of it turned to pebbles, crunched under my Doc Martens. I adjusted my pack, thinking of Chester’s needle that I’d left behind. My plan had been to spellcast it, but with the needle gone, I would have to resort to Plan B—I’d kept the tissue. It had come into contact with the needle, and there was a slight chance that the magic had transferred onto it. If so, I would find out.
But first, I needed to turn my attention to Mochazon’s whereabouts. Maybe paying a visit to the second client on my list would turn up some additional information. Thomas Clayton, the hoarder, definitely fit the profile of a Faythander visitor. What he had seen in Faythander may be the very clue I needed to find Mochazon—and to find the lost Everbloom.